


cross my heart, open wide

by acchikocchi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9633278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acchikocchi/pseuds/acchikocchi
Summary: For a minute Hajime doesn't know what to say. Everything and nothing crowds his mind, leaving no room to think. That he's never tried this. That volleyball's over. That he's graduating in five months. That it would be really nice, at least once, to go on a date with a good-looking guy.Hajime goes on a date. It's not with Oikawa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to [june](http://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade) for cheerleading and helping me figure out the ending. :* title from chairlift, ["i belong in your arms"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3e8Ql9qFA2o).

Hajime knows exactly where Oikawa will be, the day after they lose the last volleyball match of their high school career. For all his complaining, and for all that it hurts, he'll be courtside to watch the underclassman he resented face off with the nemesis he loathed if he has to crawl there.

So Hajime goes, too. And together they watch a team of nobodies, a team they knocked out all of four months ago, manage to do what they never did – what they never will – and beat the great Shiratorizawa. 

Hajime's had better days, honestly.

Oikawa's quiet, leaving the gymnasium. Hajime knocks his elbow against Oikawa's, maybe a little more gently than he usually would, and is about to say _Want to get something to eat_ , when a tremulous female voice says, "Um, ah, Oikawa-san? Oikawa-san, isn't it?"

When Hajime turns, there's a dozen of them.

He glances at Oikawa. It seems cruel, today of all days. But Oikawa's already blossoming under the sunlight of his beloved fans' undivided attention. His shoulders straighten. A wide smile stretches across his face. "Yes?" he says in his most charming voice.

The girls, to a woman, go bright red. Hajime sighs. "Come on, Shittykawa, we're gonna miss our bus," he says, in case Oikawa wants an out anyway, but Oikawa waves him off. He's smiling at the girls like it's any other day, any other match.

"Don't worry, Iwa-chan," Oikawa says, polycarbonate bright. "We can catch the next one!"

It pisses Hajime off, even though he knows it doesn't have anything to do with how Oikawa really feels. Maybe because he knows it doesn't have anything to do with how Oikawa really feels. "Fine," he says – snaps – sharper than he means to, and instead of waiting nearby until His Highness is ready to go, he trudges back to the other side of the sports complex, where there's a few benches and a vending machine, leaving a flurry of giggles in his wake.

Even though this side of the complex offers some shelter from the fall breeze, the benches are empty. It's blessedly quiet. The vending machine has his second-favorite brand of canned coffee. Hajime heaves a sigh of relief and gets out his wallet.

He's out of change.

"Shit," he mutters, and kicks the vending machine, hard, just because there's no one else around. Then he hisses, because fucking _ow_.

"Need some change?" someone asks.

Shit. Hajime can hear his principal right now. _"Aoba Jousai student caught vandalizing public property?" What does this mean, Iwaizumi-kun?_ He turns around warily to see a guy a little taller than Hajime, with a friendly smile. There's a Tohoku Gakuin University bag at his feet. As Hajime looks on, he says, "Here," and holds out a hand. Two hundred-yen coins glint in an open palm.

So whoever it is isn't trouble. Hajime's still a little embarrassed to have been caught physically assaulting an inanimate object. Enough that even though normally he'd wave the guy off, instead he mutters, "Thanks," and takes the coins. 

The machine deposits the coffee can with an emphatic _ka-chunk_. Hajime hands the change back and says, automatically, "I owe you," even though realistically there's no way he's going to end up paying this back.

"Don't worry about it," the guy says, smiling, and steps up to get his own coffee. Same brand, Hajime notes idly, and takes a seat on one of the benches.

They sit in silence. Hajime takes a sip of coffee and looks up at the blue, blue sky. It's warm, for October – warm enough that he shrugs off his jacket. Perfect training weather.

He sighs again.

"Bad day?" the guy asks. Friendly but impersonal, the way anyone might wonder if they watched a guy break his foot on a solid hunk of metal over one hundred and thirty yen.

"Kinda," Hajime says. It's not today, exactly. It was hard to watch what was otherwise objectively a pretty great game of volleyball, thinking they could have been the ones down there, but it didn't eat away at him the way it did Oikawa.

That's the real answer, of course; it's Oikawa. It's the way he gripped Hajime's shoulder when Hajime couldn't see through the tears and snot, the bruise on Hajime's knuckles where their fists collided and the echo of his voice telling Hajime, _Your timing was perfect_. It's one more step toward that fork in the road.

He should probably tell Oikawa where he went. He gets out his phone

He realizes only after he pulls it out that the growling chibi Godzilla charm – Oikawa's doing, of course – is a little too on point.

He darts a glance to the side. The guy is kindly looking up at the sky, pretending not to have noticed anything. But the crinkle around the corner of his mouth looks kind of suspicious.

Hajime types out, _over by the vending machine when ur done with ur club meeting_. He puts it down on the bench so he won't miss it if Oikawa replies.

He has one fraction of a second, the moment when he feels the vibration of his phone but before the text ringtone begins to play, to realize his mistake.

Then Godzilla roars loudly into the silence.

The guy next to him makes a sound that is definitely, one hundred percent a badly suppressed giggle.

Hajime gives up and covers his face with his hands.

"It's fine," he says, into his palms. "You can laugh."

"No, no," the guy says. "It's cute. Really." Hajime sees he's grinning.

"Sure," Hajime says. "Okay." _Cute_ , as if this couldn't get any more mortifying. 

The guy does laugh at that, but it's not a mean laugh. It's friendly, like he's inviting Hajime to share a joke instead of mocking the obvious resemblance between himself and a large green computer-generated monster. "My name's Hiroki," he says.

“Iwaizumi,” Hajime answers. “Hajime.” He internally sighs and accepts his fate. "Here for the tournament?" 

They guy's eyes crinkle. "It's my part time job," he says, "I'm a vending machine loan officer," which makes Hajime groan again.

The guy – Hiroki – relents. "I'm kidding. Yeah, I'm here for the tournament. You too?" 

Hajime nods. "It was a pretty good match." Hiroki makes a sound of agreement, so Hajime asks, "Do you play volleyball?"

Hiroki shrugs. “Not really. I’m here for my cousin.”

“Yeah? What school?” Hajime asks because it’s the polite thing to do, not because he wants to know. Hiroki seems like a nice guy. Hajime doesn’t want to know who he’s related to, whether it’s one of the players that beat them this year or one of the players that beat them last year.

“Akaoka Gakuen,” Hiroki says, and Hajime feels like an idiot. The final Seijou has no place in isn’t the only game today; the Akaoka girls are facing off against Niiyama for their own title. “I don't need to ask if _you_ play," Hiroki adds with a smile and a glance at Hajime's arms.

Hajime's used to that. Usually it makes him mumble something embarrassed. Today he just sighs. "Yeah. I guess."

Hiroki raises an eyebrow encouragingly.

Hajime leans back and rests his palms against the warm concrete, turning his face to the sky. "We got knocked out. Yesterday."

The short silence that greets this is expected, the right way to acknowledge that it's shitty and it sucks and there's nothing anyone can do about it -- but then it goes on, and on, and Hajime looks over to find Hiroki staring at him with a funny expression.

"You're in high school?"

"Yeah. Aoba Jousai. Third year." Hajime nods toward Hiroki's bag. "TGU, right?"

Hiroki nods, but it's clearly reflex. "What," Hajime says, "is there something on my face," because this is getting a little awkward, and that makes Hiroki snap out of it. His expression is still funny.

"No," he says, "sorry, it's just, you... definitely don't look like a high schooler," which is a weird compliment, but okay. Hajime must look as blank as he feels because Hiroki huffs a laugh.

"I, uh. I thought – jesus, this is embarrassing." He looks down, scrubs a hand over his face and laughs again, half under his breath. When he looks back up, there's a lopsided smile on his face. "I was going to ask if you wanted to get a drink with me some time."

Hajime frowns. He doesn't get what's so embarrassing, it's not the first time someone's assumed Hajime's over the legal —

Hiroki's brown eyes are warm, a little self-deprecating. Abruptly, Hajime gets it. 

Hiroki doesn't mean get a drink, he means _get a drink._

Hajime's face is on fire.

"Oh," he manages to get out, more of a croak than an answer. "Uh. Oh."

Hiroki runs a hand through his hair – it's soft-looking, dark, a little long but neat. It's a nervous gesture. With effort, Hajime pulls himself together. "Thanks," he says, only it comes out sounding more like a question – _thanks?_

"I know it might not be – your thing,” Hiroki says, which is a nicely euphemistic way of acknowledging _Maybe you’re not even into guys._

Hajime coughs. "No, I'm, um," how does he even answer that one, "that's not, uh, a problem."

"No?" Hiroki says, looking a little relieved but clearly not ready to jump to any conclusions.

"I just, um." Hajime scratches the back of his neck. "You just surprised me."

It's the truth, at least. This just doesn't happen to Hajime – especially not from guys he's known for all of five minutes. And it's not like Hajime's blind. Besides the nice eyes, Hiroki's tall but not too tall, slim but solid. It's a good look. This honesty compels Hajime to blurt, "I mean, you're really, um, you know."

Jesus. Really um you know. So smooth. Incredible.

But on the other hand, it – might be working. The more Hajime stumbles, the more Hiroki seems to revive. Slowly, his smile returns, a little bashful but a little confident.

"Well," Hiroki says. "I'm just in my second year, actually."

 _That's not bad_ , is what Hajime wants to say, but that sounds weird, like he's expecting something, or—

"So, um," Hiroki says. "You can tell me to back off if this is weird, but… maybe we could still meet up sometime?"

For a minute Hajime doesn't know what to say. Everything and nothing crowds his mind, leaving no room to think. That he's never tried this. That volleyball's over. That he's graduating in five months. That it would be really nice, at least once, to go on a date with a good-looking guy.

Hajime can feel one corner of his mouth curling up in an identical, sheepish smile.

He opens his mouth.

" _I-wa-chaaaan!_ "

Jesus Christ.

All it takes is one glance; from across the pavilion he can see Oikawa waving madly. "'Iwa-chan?'" Hiroki repeats, mouth twitching.

"Oh my god," Hajime says, and covers his face with one hand.

"Friend of yours, huh," Hiroki says. He's grinning.

"Literally the most embarrassing person alive," Hajime says. He grabs his jacket, already moving to cut Oikawa off at the pass. "I better go. I'll, uh. See you around."

"Hey—"

Fingers wrap around his wrist, long and graceful. When he turns, Hiroki lets go and instead holds out a slip of paper. Hajime takes it automatically, and only then looks down. 

"My number," Hiroki says, still with that endearing, bashful smile. "Text me."

"Uh. Yeah." Hajime knows his ears are red. "I will."

He jogs over to meet Oikawa halfway, because the last thing he needs is Oikawa getting close enough to strike up a conversation. He closes his hand in a fist; the paper is damp against his palm. He can still feel Hiroki's fingers on his wrist, shockingly warm.

"Took you long enough, Trashkawa," he grumbles.

"Iwa-chan, so impatient," Oikawa tsks. He squints after Hiroki. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Hajime mutters. "Let's go."

Oikawa cups a hand around his ear. "What was that? I didn't hear you, Iwa-chan!"

" _I said, nothing._ "

"Really." Oikawa gives him a piercing look. "A mysterious liaison at the prefectural championship, hmm?"

Hajime, fortunately, knows how to head this off before it gets out of hand. "Yeah, it was a good game, huh?"

The sound Oikawa makes is closer to a squawk than to human speech. " _Well_ , if you call that a _good game_ —"

Hajime closes his ears and lets the sound of Oikawa's complaints wash over him in a familiar tide. They round the corner of the building, headed for the bus stop. Up ahead he can see a conveniently placed trash can next to the route schedule.

Hajime glances down at his closed fist.

He tucks the slip of paper in his pocket. 

* * *

It takes Hajime a full five minutes to psych himself up for the first text. It's not a big deal, he tells himself repeatedly. It's just a dumb text. It's not like he's getting married. After the fifth repetition, he gets so disgusted with himself that he hits send before he can change his mind, and immediately regrets it.

 **Kozuka Hiroki** (contact)  
_21:21:48 hey. it's iwaizumi._

Less than a minute later, his phone buzzes.

_21:22:36 Hey!! I'm glad you texted. :)_

The breath leaves his lungs in a whoosh. He finds himself smiling dopily at the screen. There. That wasn't so bad.

_21:23:23 hows it going?  
21:23:32 how was the match?_

_21:23:50 Not bad, just got home from practice  
21:23:58 Akaoka lost. :(_

Hajime grimaces. 

_21:24:19 ugh. sorry. that sucks._

_21:24:39 Yeah, they were pretty torn up. :(  
21:24:47 How are you?_

_good, just_

—catching up on some homework, is how that sentence should end, but there's no way Hajime is going to draw attention to that.

_21:25:12 good, just hanging out_

Hajme winces. He definitely sounds lame, it's just a question of how lame. But there's no time to worry; his phone pings almost immediately. That's gotta be a good sign, right?

Except this isn't from Hiroki.

 **Trashkawa** (contact)  
_21:25:19 iwa-chaaaaaaan im boooooooooooooored_

Hajime screws his eyes shut and presses two fingers to his temple, which he imagines he can feel throbbing already. Of all the fucking times. He'll deal with Oikawa later.

Fortunately, Hiroki's responded, too, so maybe Hajime's lameness really is okay.

 **Kozuka Hiroki** (contact)  
_21:25:21 Good, glad you're not busy :)_

_21:25:39 anyway, practice? club activity?_

_21:25:47 Sort of  
21:25:56 I'm in a band_

Hajime's mouth drops open. Like, a real, legit band? No way.

_21:26:05 wow_  
_21:26:19 that’s pretty cool_  
_21:26:27 what do u play?_

His phone's vibrating incessantly. Grinding his teeth, he tabs back to Oikawa.

 **Trashkawa** (contact)  
_21:26:01 iwa-chan_  
_21:26:06 iwa-chan_  
_21:26:11 iwa-chan_  
_21:26:17 iwa-chan_ (Pouting Face )

_21:26:35 what._

_21:26:43 im bored!!!! cant u read_

_21:26:59 it's too late to come over, my mom would kill me_

_21:27:15 that’s fine she'll just adopt me as ur replacement_ (Smirking Face )

_21:27:31 not surprised ur family's ready to get rid of u._

Shit, he's getting distracted. He sucks so much at multitasking. He tabs back. 

**Kozuka Hiroki** (contact)  
_21:26:34 Hahaha_  
_21:26:40 Keyboards_ (Musical Keyboard ) (Multiple Musical Notes ≊ Musical Notes)  
_21:26:52 We're kind of terrible_

_21:28:12 still sounds cool to me_

Maybe it's the distraction of Oikawa that lets him cut to the chase. Maybe he just grew a pair in the last fifteen minutes. Whatever the reason, Hajime takes a deep breath and types:

 _21:28:39 so_  
_21:28:46 anyway_  
_21:29:15 i was just wondering_  
_21:31:01 if you were still up for meeting up sometime_

Hajime holds his breath. Then — 

_21:31:34 Definitely :)_

Hajime nearly collapses with relief. The screen reads _Kozuka is typing._ Hajime ignores his notifications buzzing madly as Oikawa floods his messages and waits.

_21:32:07 Idk what your schedule's like but are you free on Saturday?_

Saturday, like, this Saturday? After a half-second where Hajime's heart tries to escape through his throat, he realizes it's probably for the best; this way he won't have too much time to get all wound up. Like he is right now.

And he doesn't have volleyball practice anymore. So.

 _21:33:06 yeah actually. saturdays great._  
_21:33:40 does 1 work for you?_  
_21:33:44 pm?_

_21:34:16 Perfect  
21:34:31 Meet at Motodatemae?_

_21:34:52 sounds good_

_21:35:15 Great, it's a date!_

Hajime reads the message and immediately feels the back of his neck heat up. The only way to deal with that is to tab back to Oikawa.

 **Trashkawa** (contact)  
_21:27:43 pls at least im not adopted already_  
_21:27:51 everyone knows iwaizumi-san was extra kind_  
_21:27:59 and took in an ugly child no one else wanted_  
_21:28:06 like the ugly duckling_  
_21:28:14 only ur not a swan_  
_21:28:22 ur a v awkward rooster_  
_21:29:14 ha i see no denial!!_  
_21:29:51 getting some ice for ur burns?_  
_21:31:26 iwa-chan_  
_21:31:34 ru ignoring me????_  
_21:33:55 iwa-chan_ (Pouting Face ) (Angry Face ) (Pouting Face ) (Thunder Cloud And Rain ≊ Cloud With Lightning And Rain)

_21:36:49 could be worse could be a garbage-eating vulture like u  
21:36:52 trashkawa_

He tabs back to Hiroki and types out, _see you then._ After a moment, he adds a smiling face.

 **Trashkawa** (contact)  
_21:37:31 see you then :)_

He notices a second too late. Shit, fuck, goddammit—

 **Kozuka Hiroki** (contact)  
_21:37:44 see you then :)_

 **Trashkawa** (contact)  
_21:37:51 Ugh_  
_21:38:19 That was for ny mother_  
_21:38:27 Dont even_

_21:38:58 gyahahaha iwa-chan such a mama's boy!_

_21:39:21 at least my mother isnt trying to give me away_

_21:39:35 that you know of!!!!!!!!!!!!_

The conversation proceeds rapidly downhill. It only stops when Oikawa makes a transparent excuse about how he has to go help his mother with the garbage which – Hajime checks his watch – means it's time for _Unsolved Mysteries of the Supernatural_ , Wednesdays at 10 PM.

He snorts and closes the conversation. There's one new message waiting.

 **Kozuka Hiroki** (contact)  
_21:38:06 Can't wait :)_

Hajime flops back on his bed and smiles at the ceiling.

* * *

Hajime's been on dates before, obviously. Sort of. Fine, he's been on a handful of outings from before he learned to stop accepting confessions, weekend trips to a movie or the crepe shop with cute girls who tried with admirable effort to chat about school or hobbies while Hajime spent the whole time wishing he could just go back to volleyball practice. But nothing like this.

Which is a convenient rationale for why he's twenty minutes early and sweating like a horse. He wipes damp palms against his thighs. His jeans are dark, so it won't show. Probably.

There's couples everywhere; it's a popular meeting spot. It makes the hair on the back of Hajime's neck stand up. What are they even going to go? What are they going to do? Hajime doesn't want to point to his lack of experience but he's pretty sure Hiroki isn't going to show up with a color-coded, sticker-embellished list of suggestions like one of the Seijou girls did. 

His phone buzzes. 

It must be Hiroki; maybe something happened. Maybe he's going to be late. Maybe he's having second thoughts and is making an excuse to cancel. Hajime can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed at the thought. He opens his messages.

It's Oikawa. Of course.

 _12:45:04 sure ur busy???_  
_12:45:13 not too late to join us_

The message is accompanied by a selfie of Oikawa in front of the poster for _Stranger Beings 3_ , positioned so he and the hideous tentacled alien head appear to be in a couple pose. Hajime snorts back a laugh.

 _12:45:27 Sorry_  
_12:45:41 Dunno how long ill be busy, a couple hours at least_

 _12:45:59 fiiiiiiiiiine_  
_12:46:07 tell iwaizumi-san her favorite son misses her_ (Two Hearts ) (Face Throwing A Kiss )

Hajime never actually _said_ he had a family thing, when Oikawa texted him about the movie yesterday. Oikawa just assumed, probably because family was the only reason Hajime ever turned him down, and Hajime… let him. 

It's not that Oikawa would be surprised that it was a guy. He knows thanks to one excruciating conversation, last year, that Oikawa doesn't have a problem with the "sometimes into dudes" thing. (More like, he'd come dangerously close to tearing up over Hajime trusting him enough to tell him, which horrified Hajime so much that somehow _he_ ended up treating Oikawa to their meal. As usual.) Anyway, Oikawa knows, but. But.

"Hajime?"

Hajime's head jerks up.

Hiroki looks, well. Really nice. Black slacks, skinny cut, with a sort of sweater thing, the kind Oikawa likes to wear, hanging off his shoulders. It's a dark red that makes his whole face look… warmer, somehow.

"Hey," he croaks. "You, um. You look nice."

Amazing. He must sound like an idiot. But Hiroki's smile is beaming. "Thanks. You, too."

Hajime looks down self-consciously. He's just wearing normal clothes, because that's pretty much all he's got. But if he had to admit it, he did spend a little more time than usual – a lot more time – looking for his best-looking shirt, his nicest jeans. Not that he would know, really, but Oikawa always says they are.

"I guess we're both a little early," Hiroki is saying, which in no way prevents Hajime from reddening that he's been found out. But before he has time to get self-conscious, Hiroki goes on, "Do you mind if we stop by the record store? There's a new album I want to pick up, as long as I'm downtown."

"Sure," Hajime says, stupidly relieved. "Great."

Hajime's never been much of a music person, other than criticizing Oikawa's shitty taste in idol pop, so he doesn't have a lot to contribute when Hiroki asks him what kind of music he listens to. He's not a _complete_ idiot, however, so he asks what Hiroki's band sounds like, and they're off to the races. 

Hiroki tells him about the band's sound, and his bandmates, and the band whose album he's about to buy. Hajime only has to ask a question or two at the right moment, and soon Hiroki's leading him around the record shop, pointing out this artist and that one, talking so rapidly his words almost trip over themselves about this influence and that reaction and the rise of group sound.

It's pretty cute, that kind of enthusiasm.

On the way out, they catch sight of the AER building. When Hajime says it's been ages since he went up to the observation deck, not since junior high, at least, it becomes their next destination. It's pretty cool, he has to admit, taking in the whole city, from the mountains to the port. They find their family neighborhoods, and the castle ruins, and Hajime finds the municipal gymnasium. Hiroki points out his apartment building, not far from Tohoku Gakuin's campus, and when Hajime leans in to follow where he's pointing their free hands bump together.

After the chill of the observation deck they stop for coffee on the second floor Starbucks, Hiroki shivering theatrically and stomping his feet. A thought occurs to Hajime. 

"Hey," he says. "I'll pay."

Hiroki's cheeks go pink. "You don't have to."

"No way," Hajime says. "I, you know. I owe you."

A smile creeps across Hiroki's face.

They walk down main boulevard, peering into store windows, aimless. A small part of Hajime's mind is stuck on how very un-uncomfortable this is, wandering around town whiling away the time. He's not nervous any more – hasn't been since that first moment. It feels… normal. Natural.

He can't help smiling. He, Iwaizumi Hajime, is succeeding on a Real Date.

"What's so funny?" Hiroki asks, already starting to smile, ready to share the joke.

Hajime's so pleased with himself that he grins back. "Nah, it's nothing. Just having a good time."

The smile that stretches across Hiroki's face is blinding. "I'm glad," he says.

And then they're just… smiling at each other.

So obviously that's when Hajime glances away and looks right into the face of Oikawa Tooru, who is standing in front of the movie theater four feet away.

It's like one of those dramatic movie moments where everyone freezes, either for dramatic effect or with the help of computer graphics. No one moves. No one breathes. The noise of the city fades away and Hajime is left with nothing but his heartbeat thundering slow and ominous in his ears.

Hajime realizes three things: that no matter how cool and sophisticated and excruciatingly well-groomed Oikawa is, he's only eighteen, and looks it; that this is the turning of the tables he's been waiting for since they were twelve years old; that the startled, scared look on Oikawa's face makes him want to drop everything and go to him right now.

Fuck.

"Hey," Hajime says gruffly.

"Hello, Iwa-chan," Oikawa says. It's weirdly devoid of mockery. "Having a nice afternoon?"

"Yeah, it's, uh, pretty good." He can't actually pretend this isn't happening, so he'll just have to bull his way through it. He gestures to Hiroki, who has been politely ignoring the extreme and intense awkwardness saturating the air. "Oikawa, Kozuka. Hiroki, my best friend Oikawa."

"Sure," Hiroki says, nodding. "Oikawa Tooru. I know who you are. Captain, right? My cousin's a big fan."

Normally this would make Oikawa preen. Not this time. He deliberately looks Hiroki over and says, "You're not from Seijou."

"Tohoku Gakuin," Hiroki says, still polite.

Oikawa's lips purse. "How do you know Iwa-chan?"

That's enough of that. "We started talking at the prefectural finals," Hajime puts in. "While you were with your fans."

Oikawa doesn't even look at him. "Do you play volleyball?"

"Unfortunately not," Hiroki says. His eyes twinkle. "I can see the attraction, though."

Is that… does that mean what it sounds like? Maybe it's a joke and he should laugh. Or maybe he should just burst into flames right now.

Oikawa's watching Hiroki through narrowed eyes, nearly slits. He's not smiling. "Do you want to be his boyfriend?"

" _Oikawa_ ," Hajime hisses. His hands twitch with the effort of not reaching out to strangle his so-called best friend.

Oikawa ignores him. "Well?"

Hiroki's cheeks are tinged a faint pink but he doesn't look either intimidated or put off by Oikawa's attitude. Hajime's so busy being impressed that he nearly misses Hiroki's answer.

"I mean, it’s a first date but… I mean. I do, actually."

Hajime, embarrassingly, gapes for a moment, then manages to close his mouth at approximately the same time a rush of blood reaches his face.

Oikawa looks similarly dumbfounded. It's not a consolation. Hajime looks helplessly to Hiroki, who – is looking back. He has the same little self-deprecating expression as when he'd admitted he'd been about to ask Hajime out. Like he knew the odds weren't high, but there was nothing to lose by putting it out there anyway. 

"Okay. Well." Oikawa finally looks at Hajime, and now one of those big, wide, photo-finish plasticky smiles is stretching across his face. "If he threatens your innocence, Iwa-chan, I'll protect you!"

Hajime finds his voice. "Get. Out."

Oikawa flashes him a peace sign. "Have fun on your date!" To Hiroki, "I'm sure I'll see you again." The smile drops off his face. "As long as you watch your step." The smile reappears. "Bye now!"

Oikawa honest-to-god skips away, humming under his breath, as Hajime watches him go in dumbfounded silence.

There’s a long, long moment before Hajime grits out, teeth clenched and face burning, "I'm going to kill him."

Hiroki 's quiet.

"I’m sorry," Hajime says, aware that it’s woefully inadequate. "He's. He's insane, probably. I'm really, really sorry."

"I don't think he liked me very much," Hiroki says. Hajime can’t tell what he's thinking.

"It’s not you," Hajime says. "I promise. He's just – so weird. And uh.” _Not very good at sharing_ is what he wants to say, but some dim part of his brain tells him that’s not the right thing to say in the middle of a first date.

Hiroki shrugs, that lopsided smile again. "I know it can be strange."

"He's—" Hajime scrubs a frustrated hand through his hair. "He's not a bad person. He doesn't care about – that I'm – it's not that. He's just not—" He pauses, groping for a good finish. Hiroki waits.

"He's just not good with change," Hajime says finally.

That's the tip of the iceberg, to put it mildly, but it's good enough. Hiroki accepts the explanation with a nod. And then, mercifully, he changes the subject. "Want to finish these over at the park?"

The nice thing is, it doesn't spoil the date, or the afternoon. They finish their coffees, then on a whim head over to the batting cage. It turns out Hiroki has a pretty mean swing, which puts him one up on Hajime -- Hajime has power, but the hand-eye coordination that serves him so well on the court somehow evaporates when there's a stick in his hands. It's fun, ribbing each other over whiffed swings and high-fiving the big hits. It's relaxed. Nice.

The sun's low in the sky when they leave the cages, ambling slowly back towards the center of town, talking about whatever comes to mind – baseball, music, new movies coming out. All too soon they reach the intersection where they'll part ways along the roads branching toward Tohoku Gakuin's campus and the train station.

"I'm this way," Hajime says, nodding at the right fork.

"And I'm that way," Hiroki says, tilting his head towards the other. They share a quick smile.

Hajme's not sure what to say. How do you end a date, anyway? Do you thank the other guy? That sounds weird. At a loss, he scratches the back of his neck. "Well, uh. Guess I'll see you later?"

"I hope so," Hiroki says.

Hajime can't help laughing, maybe a little awkward but pleased. He hopes Hiroki can tell. "Cool. Well. Have a good evening."

"Hey," Hiroki says. "I had a good time."

Hajime smiles, full and real. "Yeah," he says. "Me too."

Hiroki leans in.

He’s slow, deliberately so, enough so that Hajime has plenty of time to read his movement and realize _holy shit, he’s about to kiss me_. And dodge if he wants to, but he doesn’t want to – his heart is pounding, he realizes dimly, and his palms are tingling and he's looking into warm brown eyes looking down into his from just a couple inches, just like –

_Fuck._

Hajime steps back.

Hiroki stops still.

The silence seems to go on forever.

"I can't," Hajime says at last. "I'm sorry."

Hiroki doesn't look surprised, exactly, so much as resigned. "I wondered," he says. He looks Hajime up and down. "But, you know. It was worth a try."

Hajime’s too frustrated with himself to even be embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," he says, again. "It's not you, it's – I've been warped. Since a young age."

Hiroki laughs. It's a warm, friendly sound. _God_ , Hajime wishes he were a normal person with normal feelings, and not some kind of - of - _Oikawasexual_. It's that regret that lets him say, bluntly, "You're great-looking and fun to be around. I really wish I could date you."

Hiroki actually _blushes_ , which does make Hajime's stomach flip, almost. He would feel better about that if he didn't know what it reminded him of. "You're not so bad yourself," Hiroki says. That lopsided smile again.

The tip of Hajime's ears burn. "Thanks. Um."

There's an awkward little silence. Hajime doesn't know what to say to wrap up a date where he turned down a handsome college student thanks to being obsessed with the same awful human being since the age of six.

But he does know one thing. And before he can second guess himself, he's talking. "If you still – I mean. I understand if you don't want to. But if you wanna meet up some time anyway. Like, as friends."

That must sound pathetic – a high school student asking to hang out. Hiroki smiles, though. He looks a little surprised and a little touched. "Thanks. I think I'd like that."

Then, to Hajime's complete and utter surprise, Hiroki leans in and kisses him on the cheek.

"See you around, Hajime," he says.

Hajime stares after him. It's dumb and cliched but he can't help raising a hand to touch his burning cheek.

Then his heart honest to god nearly ricochets out of his chest as a tall figure bursts out of the bushes and yowls, _"Kissing on the first date?"_

_"Jesus Christ, Oikawa!"_

Oikawa vaults over the bench and lands next to him. Hajime's body is shrieking with adrenaline, too much so to stop Oikawa from grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, hard. "What else did he try? Poor innocent Iwa-chan! Seduced by an older man!"

Hajime wrenches himself away, aware he's bright red and infuriated with himself for it. "Shut _up_ , it was just a kiss on the cheek."

This, unsurprisingly, does not have the calming effect it would on a normal person. Oikawa draws in a deep, deep breath. " _No_ , 'just a kiss' is where it _starts_ , then the next time you have your guard down, you feel safe and then – "

As Hajime attempts to calm the heart still hammering away on overdrive, he frantically tries to remember exactly what he said to Hiroki. How much did Oikawa hear? What could he have guessed? He's scarily smart, but also incredibly dense. And he just mentioned next time, so—

" – _clearly_ suspicious, vanishing inside a _private room_ for _hours_ – " 

"Oh my god, were you stalking me?" Hajime demands, more incredulous than he probably should be.

" – with no adult supervision! Just the behavior of someone out to take advantage of a chaste young innocent – "

"It was a batting cage!"

"Naïve, Iwa-chan, who knows what could have happened! Next time you should stay in well-lit public places, and make sure a friend, maybe your best friend since childhood, knows exactly where you're going at what times, and set up a time to call and check in just in ca—"

"Oikawa!" He doesn't expect that to stop the torrent of words and is almost taken aback when it does. Oikawa blinks at him. "I'm not going on any more dates, so calm down."

Oikawa narrows his eyes, clearly not ready to believe it. "Why not?"

"Because," Hajime growls. "They'll always come with a piece of human luggage, apparently.” 

He immediately feels guilty when Oikawa stops dead, and then angry with himself for feeling guilty. Oikawa literally just stalked him for the better part of an afternoon, he deserves to feel bad. But something about Oikawa’s face goes beyond standard insult to the kind of uncertainty that Hajime’s made it his job to erase.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, hesitant – god fucking damn it – "You know I don't – mind, right? That it's. That you're dating a college guy."

Hajime suddenly feels very, very tired. "Yeah," he says. "I know."

“Want to get dessert?” Oikawa offers, which in itself is a bad sign – that he’s offering, tentative, instead of saying, _Treat me, Iwa-chan, I need something sweet._

What Hajime wants is to go home and crawl into bed and never come out. But Oikawa’s looking at him expectant and hopeful, like maybe this will make things okay, so of course he can’t.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Sure.”

“You can pick,” Oikawa says.

Hajime scowls. "You paying?" He can't stand Oikawa trying to coddle him. If he says "my treat", Hajime will actually punch him. 

Oikawa looks at him like he's grown two heads. " _No_ ," he laughs, "of course not, Iwa-chan! You owe me for desecrating my pure virgin eyes!"

Hajime snorts, loud and relieved. "What part of you is pure, Trashkawa."

"Tsk, tsk, you'll never get another boyfriend making those noises like an angry bull, that's no way to woo— _ahh, stoppit stoppit!_ " Oikawa yelps as he flails one arm furiously at Hajime’s face, which is not going to stop Hajime from administering the punch he _so richly deserves_.

"I'll give you _bull_ , Asskawa—"

"Caveman!"

"Trashbag!"

"Neanderthal!"

"Garbage heap!"

"Minotaur!"

"—what the hell?"

"Illiterate!"

* * *

It's dark by the time they get out of the bakery, the one near the school grounds that's seen countless after-school treats and and post-match celebrations. They don't need to talk about where they're going next; they turn up the block, past Aoba Jousai, past the convenience store and the bookshop, all the way to the little park at the end of the street.

The ground is cold. Hajime can feel it seeping through the dry grass and the denim of his jeans as soon as he touches the ground. He wishes he'd brought a warmer jacket.

Lying side by side, their arms brush. He's aware of Oikawa's warmth without truly feeling it.

Hajime doesn't want to be the one to break the silence; he guesses Oikawa feels the same. For all that Oikawa goes out of his way to grab the center of attention, he knows how to be quiet sometimes. Hajime thinks he might be the only one, outside of his family, to see this side of Oikawa. It's nice, knowing that.

In the end, nothing about today is really a surprise. A part of Hajime always knew that it would end up this way. It's not going to be easy – nothing about Oikawa Tooru is easy – but in the final analysis, he'd rather have it this way than not. That's sort of the point.

Oikawa's voice is quiet. "Was he nicer than me?"

Hajime snorts. "Everyone's nicer than you."

Oikawa punches him in the shoulder, but it's half-hearted. "Rude, Iwa-chan."

Hajime crosses his arms under his head. The stars gleam with all the brightness of midsummer – not quite bright enough to see the Milky Way but scattered across the sky on a blanket, the kind of night that would have made Oikawa come knocking on his door when they were kids.

“Yeah,” Hajime says. “He’s nice. Really nice.”

Oikawa makes a small noise. Hajime doesn’t think it’s encouragement but it doesn’t matter.

"He's fun to talk to. Good at baseball."

No answer.

"I just didn't." Hajime swallows. "I should want to date him. He's nice, and considerate, and funny. But I didn't."

Hajime turns his head. Oikawa's eyes are wide, glinting in the moonlight. His fingers are curled under his cheek. Just a few inches away.

"Yeah. He was nice." Hajime shifts, rolling on his side. It’s now or never. "I guess… I guess that's just not my type."

"Iwa-chan?" Oikawa whispers.

Hajime kisses him.

It's not what he thought it would be like – what he can admit now that he did think, did wonder, now and then. It's a little awkward, a little clumsy, lips chapped from the dry autumn air and from nervousness, and Hajime, at least, hasn't had a lot of practice. Oikawa's mouth is soft, though. Nice.

After a minute, Hajime pulls away, to check. Oikawa's eyes are wider than he's ever seen. He looks like he can't – won't – believe what's happening. 

"Iwa-chan?" he whispers again, and this time his voice is definitely trembling.

Hajime leans in.

The second kiss is better. Their mouths come together easily. Hajime's hands move with more surety, cradle Oikawa's jaw as their lips part, mouths open. God, it feels good. He can't think any more. When he rolls on his back Oikawa goes with him. His hands are sliding along Hajime's sides, his chest, his ribs. Oikawa makes a noise that might be a whimper. Hajime fists a hand in Oikawa's hair.

They pull apart. Hajime's vaguely aware that a public park isn't really the place for sloppy makeouts. They're both out of breath, chests rising and falling too fast. Hajime tries to calm his pounding heart, his red face.

Oikawa looks like he's about to cry. It puts all the protective impulses deep in Hajime's chest on red alert. Then it occurs to him that he can do what he always secretly wants to do when this happens, and without another word he reaches out and wraps both arms around Oikawa, pulling him to his chest in a bear hug.

Oikawa goes stiff with surprise, and then he melts against Hajime, burying his face in Hajime's sweatshirt, right between his neck and shoulder. He's way too heavy, and too warm, and the ground's freezing, and they're both too old for this, and it's maybe the best feeling Hajime's ever had in his life.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa says, muffled, into Hajime's sweatshirt.

"Yeah," Hajime says.

"Iwa-chan."

"Yeah." _I'm here._

Oikawa makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle. Hajime keeps one arm fast around him; with the other, he reaches up and carefully rests a hand on Oikawa's hair. It's so soft it should be illegal. Oikawa leans into it, so Hajime digs his fingers in, and Oikawa makes another of the sniffling noises and shivers a little. 

It's a while before Oikawa speaks, barely above a whisper. "Iwa-chan… this is for real, right?"

"What, you think this is a joke?"

"No, I just... I thought…" His voice trails off, like he doesn't want to admit what he thought.

Hajime can fill it in well enough. _That you didn't, that you wouldn't, that I was too much trouble, that we were both leaving anyway._ He's had enough of that roiling deep beneath his own consciousness, where he didn't have to think about it if he didn't want to. Until today.

"Don’t be an idiot,” he mutters. “Who else would even put up with you."

"I know," Oikawa mumbles into Hajime’s neck, which, god _damn_ it, it isn’t fair when Oikawa acts like this. "That’s why you can’t go anywhere."

Hajime wraps his arms around Oikawa more tightly and says in his ear, "Like I would."

He loses track of how long they stay like that, Oikawa draped over him like a human blanket. After a while, Oikawa props himself up on one elbow. He's tracing one finger along the stitching of Hajime's jacket – nervous habit.

"So, Iwa-chan," he says, light. "Doing anything next Friday?"

Hajime's about to say something like _Uh, when am I ever_ , and abruptly realizes. He can't help the corners of his mouth creeping up.

"Are you asking me out? Trashkawa."

It's gentle, more endearment than insult. Oikawa puts on a haughty tone. "If you have better things to do than accompany the great Oikawa Tooru—"

"Where do I start," Hajime says to the sky, but he feels kind of stupid and warm inside. "Yeah. Yes. I mean, we should, right? If we're gonna, you know."

Oikawa mock-gasps. "Iwa-chan, so forward!"

"Idiot." Hajime cuffs his head lightly. "You know what I mean."

Oikawa blinks his absurdly thick lashes down at Hajime. "Maybe _I'm_ the one who should worry about being taking advantage of."

"You're insufferable," Hajime informs him, and then somehow they're kissing again, which kind of undercuts his point.

"Okay," Oikawa says breathlessly, a minute later – cheeks flushed, hair mussed. "Friday. It's a date."

"Great," Hajime says, unable to keep from smiling like an idiot. "A date." With Oikawa Tooru.

Hajime can't wait.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @kikumerio / @shoushatohaisha. hmu.


End file.
